Turk
JD and I followed the Janitor into the bathroom and both of us couldn't help but gasp. Lying on the floor was an unconscious Dr. Cox.
JD didn't hesitate as he quickly whipped his stethoscope off his neck and got into doctor mode.
"Janitor, track down a gurney, some gauze and an extra pair of hands. Turk call upstairs and give them a heads up. His pulse is low and breathing is labored. What in the world happened?" JD thought out loud.
And I was thinking the same thing.
In med-school they teach you all the medical disciplines, one of them being emergency medicine, but once you specialize, you really sort of forget all you learn. As a surgeon, you have even less experience dealing with day to day medicine.
But even I could tell that Cox didn't look good.
It was obvious that someone beat him up pretty good. His lab coat was ripped, his face and scrubs were both drenched in blood, both eyes were blackened; not to mention the numerous other bruises which covered his face.
The Janitor did his duty, and in no time doctors and nurses pilled in.
"I want him upstairs as quick as possible. Nurse start a line, as soon as we get upstairs I want him on a monitor and oxygen, you got that!"
The gurney was wheeled and was placed next to Dr. Cox.
"Okay people, on three raise him gently up. One, two, three."
As we raised Dr. Cox up, he grunted in pain.
"Hang on sir" JD said softly.
As JD kept on barking orders, I couldn't help but feel pride at how well he was handling the situation, considering the circumstances and who it was. I didn't want to dwell on what JD must be thinking. But in truth, I shouldn't be surprised with his behavior, because after all he is a good doctor.
"JD are we taking him to the ER?" I asked.
"No" by the look in his eyes I understood; "he's my patient".
